A Certain Understanding
by Wofl
Summary: They have played this game before. She knows the score when he arrives, bruised, with feral eyes and a busted lip. There he is at her door, bathed in shadows and carnal darkness, starving for her.


**Sometimes after a fight that is far too easy, Raphael finds it hard to come down. The scuffle is enough to jack him up, but not sufficient to tire him out. Adrenaline still sings in his veins, makes his blood pump hot and thick like engine oil. He is looking for a new conquest, now, and he know she will be happy to oblige.**

There isn't anything on his mind except having her.

They have played this game before. She knows the score when he arrives, bruised, with feral eyes and a busted lip. There he is at her door, bathed in shadows and carnal darkness, starving for her. He towers over her, dwarfs her, is utterly _enormous_ next to her. He inhales deep to bring calm to his insides, but he can smell her desire. It drives him wild, wilder.

He palms the door, applying inward pressure. He knows she is game for this by the way her eyes flutter over rapidly-expanding pupils, the way she leans back and lets go of the door. With no further resistance, it flies open and bounces off the waiting wall. She gives an inch; he takes a mile.

He nearly demolishes the door frame with his bulk as he pushes into the room. He is eager to occupy the same space as her. Yearns with the force of a need yet unfulfilled, a need he knows she can satisfy. He doesn't know why he has these urges, only that he has them, that he is eager to act upon them.

And so the game begins.

He crowds her, and she gives way - until he has her backed against the far wall. She has nowhere left to go. She braces her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, as if she had the strength to move a mountain.

Roughly, he grabs both her wrists in one of his hands. Her bones feel like matchsticks in his iron grip, as breakable as promises. She gasps, struggling to pull away. He knows she doesn't really want to escape, the skirmish is half the fun. But still, he needs to hear her say it, before he goes too far.

 _Tell me you want this_ , he says, pinning her hands over her head, pressing the line of his body against hers, so close he can feel her heart pattering beneath her breasts. _Say that you want me_. His lips hover just on the edge of hers. His eyes are dark beneath his mask.

 _I want this_ she says. _I need you._ She is whining now, struggling against his grip. _Please, Sir._

 _Sir_ she says, and the word races electric up his spine. Permission granted, he claims her lips, kissing her deep and working his tongue into the warm cave of her mouth. She tilts her head up to receive him, making muffled noises until they break apart panting. His eyes rake over her body, the outline of her curves beneath her clothes, the flush of her cheeks. She is ravishing. She draws him in like a siren's song.

An overwhelming need slams into him as he gazes at the magnificence of her body. He needs to see every inch of it, needs to claim it, mark it as his own, the desire burning hot and low in his gut. With his one free hand, he rips open her blouse. Buttons go flying. He does not care. She is wearing tight little shorts, and he tugs them down over her hips, lets them fall to the floor only to find no underwear beneath. _Fuck._ His cock swells to an even greater size beneath his shell, already aching with need. He drops down, shows her just how much she wants her.

There is nothing but bare skin between them now. He relishes the planes of her body, trailing a hand down her bare arm and across her collarbone. He squeezes her breast, massaging the tissue with his thumb before pinching her nipple. Hard.

She squeaks in surprise, forced up on her tiptoes as he tugs on her sensitive flesh with one hand and keeps her hands trapped above her head with the other. He loves the way her back arches outward, the way she writhes against him, surrenders to him, moans for more. Unconsciously she spreads her legs and he steps between them, pinning her flat against the wall with his bulk as his hand leaves her chest and dips low, finds its way between her legs.

She is already dripping wet. And warm. Raphael groans with need as his fingers explore her intimate parts. He rubs her clit with his thumb while another finger penetrates her. He is not slow, nor is he particularly gentle, but she takes it in stride. He can feel her muscles clenching around him as he fingers her and she pushes herself into his hand eager for more.

She looks about as needy and desperate as he feels, hips rocking, legs trembling, head thrown back. Her mouth is open and she is panting hard with desire. She meets his eyes, mewls out his name. His cock gives a twitch. He shudders with a dark, animal need.

He lets her go abruptly. _On your knees_ , he orders, stepping back. _Crawl to me_. And like a goddamn miracle, she does, slinking naked across the floor to kneel at his feet, staring up at him with wide eyes. He reaches down and pets her head, slides his hand down to cup her cheek, pushes his thumb into her mouth to draw her lips apart.

He pushes his cock into her mouth, then. And _holy hell_ it feels good. She know exactly what to do with her tongue to make his eyes roll into the goddamn back of his head. His churr is deep and silky, rumbling up from his chest to signify his pleasure.

 _Good girl,_ he says, and feels the twitch of her pleased smile around his cock. She swallows him deeper, impossibly so. He stares down at her, amazed, so incredibly turned on - by her enthusiasm, by the line of saliva dripping down her chin, by that absolutely _sinful_ thing she's doing with her tongue, like she's trying to suck his soul out through his dick. It makes him feel weak and invincible all at once.

He needs her, needs to be inside of her. He can't wait any longer.

Slipping his dick free of her mouth, he takes his cock in hand, biting back a groan at the cool air on his sensitive flesh. He is so hard, he feels like all the blood in his body must have relocated to his dick by now. Roughly, he pulls her to her feet, wraps a massive arm around her waist, and pulls her against him. She helpfully hitches up a leg, hooking it around his thigh and he guides himself into her, relishing the ecstasy of how tight and warm and wet she feels. The noises she makes as he enters her are so goddamn hot he almost blows his load right there and then.

But he has plans for her.

So he pauses for a moment, reigns himself in, reaches for his self-control. He holds still until the danger has passed, until he can feel her heartbeat pulsing around his cock. Then, without warning, he grasps the soft flesh of her ass with both hands, lifts her off the ground like she is weightless. Together, they slam against the wall, Raphael pushing deep into her at the same time.

He fucks like he fights: hard and fast and dirty, leaving finger shaped bruises on her ass and teeth marks on her collar bone. She rides him like a cowgirl, like she's been straddling beasts her whole life. The frenzy of it rises. He pulls a scream out of her, the sound going straight to his dick. He growls in response, not ready for this scene to end yet.

He lifts her away from the wall, pulling out momentarily, though it is almost physically painful to do so. His loins ache with need for release, his manhood is slick with her fluids and his own precum. He longs to be back inside of her.

But first...

He carries her to a nearby oak library table, flipping her around and bending her over it. It is stained a dark cherry. He doesn't care about the color, except that her body looks great stretched out across the dark wood, her ass sticking up in the air, round and perfect and just begging to be-

 _*smack*_

She whimpers when he slaps her ass, but her hips twitch and her pupils are blown when she turns her gaze to him and grinds out a husky _again_. So he does, loving the bright pink spreading across her ass cheeks in the unique shape of his hand while the sound of it echoes throughout the room.

He grabs her hips, then, once again plowing into her dripping pussy. It's like sliding home. He thrusts forward, at the same time pulling her towards him, burying himself impossibly deep inside of her and _fuck yeah,_ that oughtta be illegal it's so good.

She's got her hands braced on the wall, using the leverage to push herself back towards him with every table rocks in a staccato rhythm. He lifts his hand from one of her hips, gives her ass a few more good smacks, addicted to the way it makes her hips grind and her pussy clench like a vice around his shaft. His vision clouds over, sensation flooding his senses.

She, too, is growing desperate, squirming endlessly beneath him. One of her hands leaves the wall to find it's way between her legs. She starts rubbing herself while Raphael continues to fuck her. Mid-stroke, he sees her doing this and growls in warning. Never slowing, he reaches out and grabs her wrist. Pulling her arm behind her back, he prevents her from touching herself. _No_ , he says and she cries out in frustration, fighting his grip. And that's good too - the way she refuses to immediately surrender to him, makes him work for it - it makes his insides go liquid hot. Raph knows he's not going to last much longer.

His thrusts grow short and shallow as he bends over her, until there is no space left between his plastron and her back. He nips at the back of her neck making her shudder and moan before purring in her ear. _That's my job_ he says, wrapping an arm around her and snaking his hand between her legs.

He picks up where she left off, teasing her clit until she squeals while he moves relentlessly inside her. He is captivated by the way she bucks and writhes beneath him, until finally, finally she tips over the edge.

She unravels in his hands and it is a privilege to see it.

It makes him dizzy with euphoria, like the high from a fight, but so, so, _soooo_ much better. And that's it, he's gone, following her into the bliss of orgasm. He pulls out of her as he comes, covering her skin with his seed. He paints a Jackson Pollock on her back, unable contain his moans and churrs.

He stares at the mess he's making of her; rides the wave of ecstasy right on up through the stratosphere.

He tucks her into bed before he slips away out the window. With the restless, primordial instincts within him sated, he takes the time to run gentle fingers through her hair. He kisses her lightly this time, eyes soft and warm with affection as he meets her sleepy gaze. She smiles up at him.

 _Can you get out of my house now?_ She grouses drowsily - and this too is part of the game, the casual dismissal, the ongoing allure of her aloof facade. _Come back when you've got more to offer_. She waves him off her.

He laughs as he complies, knowing nothing more needs to be said. He'll definitely be back. Addicted to the game, to _her_... he knows he can never stay away.


End file.
